Inclination and Opportunity
by Saucery
Summary: When Schwarz and Weiss are forced to work together, Yohji is exposed to a new and dangerous temptation. Will he succumb to it, or will he survive? Be warned that this story is Yohji/Nagi, and that it is very, very wrong. Bad-wrong. Evil-wrong. Yeah.


Temptation cannot exist without the concurrence of inclination and opportunity.

- E. H. Chapin, _Living Words_.

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**INCLINATION AND OPPORTUNITY**

**- Chapter I -  
**

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Damn, but teenagers are like a different _species_. Yohji's pretty sure he used to _be_ one, once, but that was a fractured time he barely remembers, smoke-hazy and acid-sharp, tinged with vomit and the stench of cheap sex. (Michiko, her skin as worn as old money. He'd promised himself never to touch her - she'd been like a _mother_ to him, but he'd - ) No. There's nothing back there. Nothing that doesn't make him want to hang himself with his own wire, anyhow. Except for Asuka, but that's - no. Nothing.

Technically, Omi's a teenager, but he acts younger and _thinks_ older, so Yohji's never been able to see him as one. Nagi, though...

It's weird, and wrong in too many ways to consider, that _Nagi's_ more of a teenager than Omi is. More normal, or more - consistent, at least. Heck, for a kid with superpowers and occasional telekinetic tantrums, Nagi's freakishly _normal_, what with the disenfranchised look and the jaded eyes and the deadpan sarcasm. That's what you _expect_ from teenagers, these days. Not Omi's carefully calibrated freshness and slightly overdone innocence, which is - hell, it's like something in a children's comic book from the _sixties_. Kritiker must've trained Omi to base his persona off of episodes from _The Brady Bunch_, or something. It's cute, but it's also creepy. If you've seen Omi kill, that is.

But Nagi? Looks like he actually _can_ kill people. And isn't that how teenagers are supposed to look? The 'emo' ones, anyway? Yohji'd gone undercover as a guidance counselor at a school last year, and - man, some of those kids were already assassin material. Especially the ones that got abused by their dads, or - interestingly - over-indulged by them. Yohji wonders which was true, in Nagi's case. Probably the former. It'd explain the development of telekinetic powers, because telekinesis is all about _control_, about wanting it so desperately you fucking reach out and warp the _universe_, and Yohji can't imagine anyone wanting to do that unless control was seriously freaking ripped _away_ from them. In as traumatic a manner as possible.

"Stop psychoanalyzing me," Nagi says. His fingers are toying with the artfully frayed edges of his shorts, his itty-bitty black leather shorts, and Yohji looks away before he can be accused of ogling a minor. Oh, wait. That's supposed to be the _point_. "It amuses Schuldig too much."

"He listening in on us?" Stupid question, though - Schuldig's a voyeur if there ever was one. Not that Weiss isn't usually listening in, either, but Yohji can't _afford_ bugs or wires in a place like this, where getting naked is a priority, and the closest their guys can get to the building is by stationing Balinese and Siberian on a nearby rooftop, as backup. Goddamn Schwarz is the only team with a goddamn telepath. No bugs required. Bastards.

Nagi's eye-roll illustrates just how stupid that question was, and yeah, typical teenager. Except for the mascara _edging_ that eye-roll, but don't the Goth boys do that, these days?

"He says you have the attention span of a gnat," Nagi continues, and Yohji drags his eyes away from the eyebrow-piercing above one of those dark eyes. The kid's really _thorough_ with his undercover work, isn't he? What else has he got pierced? "And that you think like a pervert. An 'uncannily perceptive' pervert."

Yohji can even hear the quotation marks. "I'll take that as a compliment." _Schuldig_ thinks he's a pervert? That's gotta break the world record for irony - if Weiss's working with Schwarz hasn't already done that, and left all other attempts in the dust. "As long as he stays outta my head, he can pay me all the compliments he wants."

"It is as Weiss requested." Nagi's clever little fingers - hell, Yohji might as well start _thinking_ like the predator he's playing - leave his own shorts and find Yohji's trouser-clad leg. Trousers were never Yohji's style, but they _are_ his character's, complete with the tacky shirt-and-tie combo commonly associated with middle-class office workers. At least the tie's loose, since Yohji's pretending to be drunk. "As long as we're working on this mission, Schuldig will stay out of your unimaginably dull little mind, unless, of course, you're foolish enough to broadcast your thoughts. Which is what you've been doing, by the way. You think too loudly."

_The better to deafen you with, asshole_, Yohji thinks - very loudly. "Unimaginably dull? I thought he found me amusing. And perceptive."

"He did." Nagi's eyes narrow. "I don't."

"Oh-kay, then." Chalk up another win for the Kudoh deductive skills! Yohji's past as a PI wasn't a total waste, since it's just gotten him confirmation from the very person he's been psychoanalyzing that his psychoanalysis is _correct_. Because people being pissed off by something? Normally means it's true.

"He says I shouldn't have told you that. Gave you confirmation, or something."

"Do you ever say _anything_ he doesn't?" Then a thought occurs to Yohji, and he feels an uncomfortable current of concern. "This isn't gonna freak you out, is it? Doing what we're gonna do. If you've - got issues with - being touched, you know, then maybe - " _Maybe we shouldn't do this, and I can save my balls from being telekinetically torn off_.

"Don't insult me," Nagi snaps, before swiftly cooling down again. "I'm a professional."

"Oh, really?" Yohji looks Nagi up and down - from his knee-high boots, dangerously bare thighs, obscenely short-shorts and strategically ripped T-shirt to his half-gloved hands, black nail-polish, pierced eyebrow, studded nose and delicately made-up face. "Huh. You do _look_ like one. A professional whore, I mean."

"That _is_ the idea," returns Nagi, in a voice too dry to indicate whether the intended jibe hit home.

Brat. He's no fun at all. That deadpan thing's gonna get old real quick. At least Omi _blushes_ when people talk about sex. Heck, so does Ken, and he isn't even a virgin anymore. As for Aya, well - he reacts to sex and sexuality the way most people do to paying taxes - total avoidance and, if it can't be helped, utter boredom. That's largely the reason Weiss no longer uses him on missions that require the seduction of a target; Aya might be as aesthetically perfect as a statue, but he's also about as responsive as one. Yohji remembers that time he 'took one for the team', because Aya failed in distracting a target sufficiently, and the bastard saw Yohji creeping in the window when he _should_ have been too focused on Aya's spectacular throes of passion to notice. Of course, Aya had no passion to speak of, and his throes were non-existent, which meant that Yohji had ended up with a knife in his shoulder. And Aya hadn't even apologized for it. Jackass. (But then he'd vivisected the target into neat little squares, so that kind of made it okay. Kind of.)

Huh. That was _before_. Now, Aya's too comfortable with them to even bother apologizing by proxy. Yohji almost misses the days when Aya expressed his remorse via extra-bloody corpses; it reminded him of the way chastened cats drag headless rats into their owner's kitchens.

Lost in reminiscence, Yohji barely notices it when Nagi _sniffs_ - a sound that could, in a more expressive boy, be taken for one of amusement.

Yohji glances at him. "What? Did Schuldig give you another play-by-play?"

"Yes," Nagi murmurs, and then: "Fujimiya has more in common with Farfarello than he likes to think." There's a quiet almost-smile hiding somewhere behind his mouth, and _wow_. So _that's_ what a teenager's smile is supposed to look like; Omi's too-bright facsimiles pale in comparison.

Maybe this mission won't be that difficult to pull off, after all; Nagi actually looked _sweet_, for a second there, and at least Yohji won't be fucking an automaton.

Or - damn. Or maybe that makes it _worse_, since Nagi's still a kid that _can_ smile like that, and what if tonight's mission ruins it? Damn. Not that Yohji'd ever expected to feel protective about a member of Schwarz, but - but just because Yohji's acting the part of a monster doesn't mean he's _really_ a monster. Hell, he'd had to spend the whole of last night practicing how to dissociate, just so he could even get _hard_ with a kid under sixteen and not throw up on the spot.

"Hey," Yohji clears his throat, not exactly sure how to phrase it. "You know, we don't absolutely have to do it this way. Um."

Nagi raises a skeptical eyebrow. A smug, _superior_ eyebrow, and it's an expression close enough to Crawford's to make Yohji feel like an idiot for even worrying about this, but then it occurs to him that Nagi probably imitates Crawford like most children unconsciously imitate their _fathers_, and, fuck. This whole mission is wrong on so many levels.

"There's always Plan B, though it'll take a little longer."

"'Plan B', as you call it, is useless. Both our teams agreed on that - a singular enough event, I might add, to lend some weight to that conclusion."

Does Nagi _have_ to talk like an adult? It messes with Yohji's head, particularly when he's trying his darnedest to remember why Nagi's too young for this. "Yeah, but we could - "

"Could what? All other options have been discussed and discarded. The quickest route is to use a minor, and Tsukiyono's out of the question, because he's a) a virgin, b) bashful, c) sexually inexperienced beyond the mere act of copulation and d) prone to genuine trauma as a result of this experience."

Yohji gapes. "Do you _think_ in bullet-points? No, wait, did you learn that from Crawford?"

Nagi ignores him. "None of Tsukiyono's limitations apply to me - ergo, I am the ideal choice for this mission. And no," he adds, somewhat derisively, "I did not learn that from Crawford." A pause. "Shut up, Schuldig."

Great. Nagi says 'Schuldig' like most peevish adolescents say 'Mom', and _that's_ almost more wrong than anything else that might happen here tonight.

"Schuldig says that I inadvertently traumatized you." Are Nagi's eyes glittering? They are, aren't they? The little bitch. "Sorry."

"Well, screw you, too. And here I was, trying to be a _decent_ _human being_, not that you losers in Schwarz know anything about it..."

"The very notion that assassins are or should attempt to be decent human beings is ridiculous," Nagi says, and Yohji gives up on counting the number of syllables in that sentence. What did the kid's profile say his IQ was, again? "The very fact that you _kill_ makes 'decency' an impossibility. And a hindrance, besides. Have you never heard of the proverb, 'Fight fire with fire'?"

"Are you saying we have to be just as bad as our targets? Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

"And what is 'our' purpose?"

Yohji bares his teeth. "_Weiss_'s purpose is to take down the bad guys. Not replace 'em."

Nagi has the gall to look _amused_, the evil _brat_, and Yohji can't believe he'd fallen for that coy little near-smile. "Keep telling yourself that, Kudoh. The truth is that your purpose is to take down whoever _Kritiker_ classifies as 'bad guys', and you have no understanding whatsoever of the arcane algorithm Kritiker might or might not be using to determine whether someone is 'bad'."

"We do random background checks of our own," Yohji says, shortly, wondering why he's defending his people to _Schwarz_. "They've always turned out to be criminals. Of the death-penalty variety."

"And you think Schwarz's targets are any different?" Nagi's head is cocked to the side, like he's _curious_. Like a sociopath's curious about a fly before ripping its wings off, and maybe _Schuldig's_ the one Nagi's imitating. If he's imitating anyone at all. Yohji's starting to realize that Nagi's more of his own person than Yohji'd ever thought him to be, and that this is the longest conversation he's ever had with the boy, or, heck, with _anyone_ from Schwarz. He'll need to update their profiles when he gets back home.

"You guys kill for _fun_."

"Do you honestly mean to tell me that you glean no enjoyment from your work? Especially when Schuldig has often sensed traces of sexual arousal in your mind, immediately after a kill?"

Yohji's mouth snaps shut. _Adrenaline, it's just adrenaline_, he thinks, and he doesn't even have to _hear_ Schuldig to know that the fucker's laughing at him. He can see it in Nagi's triumphant eyes.

"We're both assassins working for groups who want 'bad guys' dead. And in the eyes of the law, Kudoh, anyone that wants anyone dead _is_ a bad guy." Nagi's hand tightens on Yohji's thigh, and the contemptuous sneer that curls his lips is one that could easily belong on a prostitute with an incredibly dumb, incredibly rich client. "You're _working_ for the villains, Weiss. As is Schwarz. The only difference is, you've been naïve enough to believe their lies." The sneer melts back into the bland, slightly antagonistic expression that usually graces Nagi's face. "At least _we_ know what we're killing for."

"You little son of a bitch," Yohji grinds out, thinking of the innocents Farfarello's slaughtered, and the perfectly functional people that Schuldig's reduced to gibbering lunatics and vegetables. "Weiss is _different_, and you know it."

"Hm." Nagi's eyes are heavy-lidded. To any bystander, he's probably just another boy-whore who's haggled his customer up to a _very_ satisfactory price. He leans closer to Yohji, and his breath stirs Yohji's hair when he says, "But _you_ hate people, too," and before Yohji can make sense of _that_, the door opens.

It could be anyone; Yohji's facing the other way, towards Nagi, and can't tell. But Nagi's posture _changes_, subtly, and his eyes flick briefly towards the door.

"Target," Nagi whispers, sharply. "Two o' clock. Approaching the bar."

Shit. Game's on.

Yohji isn't going to think about options, anymore. There are none. Nagi's here, and he's their ticket into this hellhole, and that's the reigning Devil, right there, coming into Yohji's line of sight as he heads towards the bar, swaggering like he owns the fucking place. Which he does. He looks just like his mug-shot, too - closer to a middle-aged alcoholic than a mafioso with depraved tastes.

Narazaki Akira. The one and only target that Weiss and Schwarz have ever had in _common_, albeit for different reasons - Weiss because Kritiker wants to take down the child prostitution ring that Narazaki's set up in downtown Shinjuku, and Schwarz because their employers want Narazaki dead for whatever damn reason they have - eliminating a rival in the underworld, maybe.

Whatever the case, it's led to both teams being in this goddamn awkward situation, since the only minor able to go undercover in this operation is Nagi, a member of Schwarz, and the only adult able to sneak into the place is Yohji, a member of Weiss. Yohji, loathe though he is to admit it, is the only one who can play the part of a sexual deviant believably. Ken's too freaked out by the whole thing to do it, and Aya's - well, _Aya_ - incapable of normal sex at the best of times, let alone deviant sex at the worst of times. From Schwarz's side, Crawford's too uptight to manage it and Farfarello's too insane, leaving Schuldig, who'd play the role passably well but who needs to be on 'clean-up'; he'll be too busy erasing people's memories of the event to actively participate in it. There's multitasking, and then there's telepathic ADHD.

"Schuldig thanks you for your dim assessment of his abilities." Nagi slides a leg over Yohji's lap, _slinking_ onto him like he does this all the damn time, offering lap-dances to men a decade older than he is.

Well, they _are_ supposed to be putting on a show. They have to, now that their audience is here.

"Tell him he's welcome," Yohji replies, in as low a volume as he can, "and that he should get out of your head, soon, unless you want him in there when we do this." He curves his hands around Nagi's waist, settling him more comfortably atop him, before spanning his hands downward to cup Nagi's ass.

Fuck, it's so _small_ -

No. He is _not_ thinking about how young Nagi is. This is a job. A fucking _job_, Kudoh, and it hasn't even started yet - don't freak out _now_.

Nagi, for his part, is smirking; Yohji doesn't want to know what Schuldig is telling him. "Good point. He _is_ my 'Mom', after all - isn't that what you called him? _Daddy_?"

Yohji flinches. "Shut the fuck up," he hisses, appalled - because it's just _sick_ hearing that from Nagi's mouth, even though it had gotten him so hard, once, when that hot little waitress from Fukuoka had called him that in a grimy bathroom stall.

Nagi _laughs_. Softly. "All right, Schuldig. That's enough. You can leave, now."

"He'll still be watching us from other people's eyes, though, won't he?" Yohji darts a look around: the bartender's close enough to be an effective peephole, as is the rotund pedophile on the neighboring couch, cosseting a wanly smiling girl on his lap. She looks all of thirteen. If they didn't have to bring the whole operation down by going undercover, Yohji'd be over there already, slicing the man's hands off with his wire. As it is, all he can do is sit here and _seethe_ - and not think about the fact that what he's doing to Nagi is, at least physically, exactly what that guy's doing to the little girl.

"Of course." Nagi leans down and bites his jaw, gently. "Relax. I won't be having _mental incest_, or whatever you think it is." Then, as if sharing a secret, he drops his voice even further. "I have a pact with my team, you know. About anyone I sleep with - or have to sleep with. Crawford doesn't tell me anything about their futures, unless it endangers _me_; Farfarello doesn't cut them up, unless I want him to; Schuldig stays out of my head while I'm doing it."

"And they _listen_ to you?"

"We're Schwarz," Nagi shrugs. "Nice setup, no?"

_Have to sleep with,_ he'd said. Like it was nothing.

Yohji's stomach turns. But he's playing a _part_, so he grins, instead - lecherously and just a little drunkenly, and tugs Nagi back up so that they're looking each other in the eye. "Let's do this," he says, and Nagi smiles - that almost-smile again, so sweet and so fucked _up_ in this situation that Yohji can barely process it.

"Yes," Nagi answers, and twines his arms around Yohji's neck. "Let's."

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**to be continued.**

Up next: Deflowering! Voyeurism! Yohji in a hell-bound handbasket!


End file.
